


The Beginning

by Trash



Series: Faux Pas [1]
Category: Linkin Park
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-12
Updated: 2013-11-12
Packaged: 2018-01-01 07:31:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,486
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1042086
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Trash/pseuds/Trash
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Brad was everybody's fantasy, your's included. But you have to speak up to get what you want, and it isn't always as easy as you had hoped.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Beginning

It starts when you’re sitting side by side in math class, cheating on a test paper that is fifty percent of your grade. You both suck anyway so it isn’t getting you anywhere, but you still slide your chair closer to his and for the first time you notice his cologne.

Doesn’t wear it much, you guess, because you’ve never smelt it before. After that it makes you want to be close to him constantly. You wonder if he’s always worn it and you’ve never noticed before. Or maybe it’s new. Maybe one of his many one-night-stands bought it for him in exchange for his number.

The people Brad has sex with really piss you off – once they’ve slept with him they instantly become members of his fan club. At first you were jealous but, after a while, you realised that it was you he was telling his dreams, hopes, fear and desires to. The only talk the others got was post coital and “lock the door on your way out”.

***

You’re sitting on his bed watching MTV and thinking about what you had for lunch and how there had to be something wrong with it because you think you’re going to hurl.

“You okay, Mike?”

“My lunch is on the move.”

“Yeah,” he says and lays back, his arms folded behind his head, “Madonna has that effect on people.”

You turn to him and his shirt has ridden up just a little bit and to stop yourself staring you lie down beside him. He shifts and rests his head on your chest, picking at the material of your shirt and saying “Think we’ll ever be on MTV?”

You scoff at that because Xero hasn’t practiced in weeks. It’s all Mark’s fault, of course, and there’s the fact that you have so much homework piling up your dad is threatening to ground you. “In our dreams, Brad.”

***

Spring formal. You always hated school dances but Brad is making you go. He saw you staring at Rachel Lowland’s ass in the hallway last week and insists that, if you don’t show her how well you clean up, you’ll never get anywhere with her. Trouble is – you don’t really want to. You’re not interested. You try to tell Brad this as he helps you fasten your bow-tie and he rolls his eyes.

“You’ll be interested after this,” he says and hands you a soda bottle.

“Root beer? Yeah. That sure as hell boosts my libido,” you say and hold it out towards him.

He tells you, “Just taste it.”

So you do – you take a long swig. It’s vodka. You wretch and splutter at the burn in your throat and the pit of your stomach and glare at him “A little warning wouldn’t have hurt, you ass.”

Brad grins, “You’d have never taken a drink it if I told you.”

You roll your eyes and clear your throat, batting his hands away from where they’re trying to straighten your collar. “If this thing sucks I’m leaving.”

“Fine.” He says and there’s something in his eyes that makes you know you’ll be staying until the end.

***

You sit on the bleachers in the hall with Brad and watch the captain of the football team twirl the head cheerleader around the dance floor. They’re so soppy it makes you want to vomit. Or that could be the vodka Brad keeps passing to you. Either way you feel light headed and really want to leave.

He leans over and murmurs in your ear “You look a little pale.”

You just glare at him because, you know, he’s a complete asshole. “My suit itches.”

“Want me to take it off for you?” He says with a dirty wink.

“Oh yes please.” You say blankly and stare at him. “Can we go home please?”

He doesn’t reply for a long minute and you think maybe he’s going to make you stay. “Mike?”

“Yes?”

He wrings his hands in his lap and murmurs “I...my dad freaked out at me this morning before school...I kind of don’t want to go back.”

You smile fondly and clap him on the back “Yeah sure, you can stay the night.”

***

You’re hung over the next morning and lying in bed beside Brad who has an arm flung over your stomach. You watch him sleep for a long moment, wondering if your headache will subside on its own or if you’re going to have to move him and get some painkillers. Just the idea of getting up turns your stomach so you lay there and pray you feel better soon.

“I know you’re staring at me.”

“I have a headache.”

He laughs softly and shifts to lay beside you, messing your hair with one hand, “Poor Mikey,” he smirks and kisses your cheek.

And maybe you’re still a little bit drunk or maybe it’s the headache getting to you, because you can’t resist the urge to turn your head and brush your lips against his. You remain completely frozen when he doesn’t kiss back, a wave of terror making your blood run cold and all you can think is fuck, fuck, fuck.

You’re about to pull away when the hand in your hair tightens its grip and his lips move against yours softly. You’re still scared because...it’s Brad...and he’s a guy...and is he just doing this to get off or does he want this too?

He breaks away and looks you in the eyes, smiling reassuringly. You can only hope you don’t look as terrified as you feel and try to smile back saying “Sorry.”

“Don’t be,” He almost whispers and leans in to kiss you again, parting his lips to deepen it and massage his tongue against yours. You’re pretty sure you’ve never wanted anything as much as you want Brad right now. He rolls you onto your back and you pull him on top of you, not breaking the kiss and sliding your hands up the smooth skin of his back and down to his ass, instinctively pulling his hips down against yours.

You groan at the sensation and press your hips up against his and breathe out “I have no idea what I’m doing.” You look up into his eyes and find yourself completely blown away by the lust there.

He rolls his hips into yours again and dips his head to kiss and nip at your neck, soon having you a writhing mess on the bed beneath him. Murmuring against your skin he says “Just do what feels good,” and then promises “I won’t hurt you.”

You trust him. You want this. So much. Always have, really. You’re still scared but his touches are gentle and he sits up slowly, pulling down his boxers and throwing them on the floor. His hands finger the waistband of your own boxers, silently asking for permission which you grant immediately.

It’s hard to fight away the feeling of self consciousness as he begins kissing down from your neck to your chest, his teeth grazing your nipples momentarily before his mouth makes its way down to your stomach, stopping only at your crotch. Propping yourself up on your elbows, you could die right now – looking down at Brad looking up at you from between your legs, his mouth hovering over your cock.

He flicks his tongue over the head and you fall back against the mattress as he takes as much of you in his mouth as he can. You bunch the sheets in your fists and moan softly. You’ve fooled around with girls before...or a girl, and yeah she did this for you but it wasn’t worth what you had to do in return. But eating her out is the furthest thing from your mind as Brad cups your balls in one hand, running the other over your stomach as he sucks hard on your cock.

You’re going to cum. You’re so close. The vision of him is so amazing. You wish you could just freeze this moment forever and save it. Draw it. You wish you could capture the arch of his neck and the sheen of sweat on his back as he cheeks hollow around your length. You drop a hand to his hair and try to speak but all that comes out is a whimper. Brad gets it, though, and pulls away, kisses his way back up your stomach to your chest to your neck to your mouth. You’re trying not to tremble as his tongue massages against yours. You want this more than anything but...

He breaks the kiss and strokes your face softly saying “We don’t have to do this. We can just make out...if you want.”

You shake your head and your voice is husky when you say “I want this.”

Brad smiles broadly and looks around. “Got lube?”

You laugh. You tell him there’s baby oil in the bathroom and he jumps up, disappears into the en suite. Reappears with the bottle and climbs back onto the bed. Neither of you have condoms but the idea never arises and you don’t mind. You watch with hooded eyes as he lubes up his fingers and settles between your legs. He smiles weakly “This is going to hurt.”

“I don’t care.” You say and let him bend your legs to get better access to your body.

He pushes one finger in and you tense up because yes, it does hurt. But he wraps one hand around your cock and strokes you slowly, soothingly, and waits for you to relax. He adds another finger and you squeeze your eyes shut in pain and discomfort. He talks to you with a soft voice as he moves his fingers within you, stretching you. The pain lifts with “It’s okay baby,” and you even find yourself moaning softly as he adds a third finger with a gentle “You like that?”

You do. And you want more. You crave it. You crave him. And you can’t believe you waited so long to make a move. Brad keeps his fingers inside of you and continues to stroke your erection for a while until you’re a mess, writhing and moaning as he crooks his fingers and strokes a spot inside of you until a white light explodes behind your eyes.

After a moment he stops touching you, removes his fingers and sits back. Uncapping the baby oil again he applies some to his cock, stroking himself slowly. Here’s another moment you want to keep – Brad sitting back on his heels, head thrown back and hand on his erection. He drops the bottle on the floor and leans in, kissing you softly. There’s something reassuring about the way his mouth moves against yours, as if he’s silently saying he’ll never hurt you. I’ll make this as good for you as I can.

He kisses your neck. You’ll never forget me.

Brad guides himself into you and the hurt comes back. He whispers against your neck, soft soothing words that should comfort you but don’t because oh fuck it hurts. He pushes all the way in and holds completely still, waiting for you to relax. Stroking your thigh he kisses his way back up to your mouth and whispers “It’ll get better.”

“Promise?”

He says “Promise” and pulls out slowly.

You groan quietly and wrap your arms around him, shaking as he pushes back in with a groan of his own. He begins to build up a steady rhythm and for a moment you think he lied, it won’t get better, it’ll always hurt. But then he adjusts his thrusts and hits that spot again and you arch your back, cry his name loudly.

Brad moans lowly and reaches down, wrapping his hand around your erection and stroking as close to in time with his thrusts as he can. He buries his face in the crook of your neck and moans against your hot skin. Impulsively you wrap your legs around his waist and dig your heels hard into his ass, driving him in harder and deeper.

You’re so close and he keeps hitting your spot and stroking your cock and then he bites down on your neck and pushes you over the edge. You cum with a cry, tightening your grip on him as you buck your hips and arch your back. Brad follows not long after, thrusting into you one last time and emptying himself inside of your body.

You lie there together, sweaty and sated and clinging to each other. You lower your arms eventually and let him pull out of you slowly. It hurts again but he kisses you and rolls over beside you.

“I should go...” he says without glancing at the clock. But he kisses your neck before he climbs off the bed to get dressed. Part of you doesn’t want him to go. How can he leave you now? But you can’t ask him to stay – you can’t be the clingy mistress on her knees in her nightgown saying “You can’t leave me.”

“Yeah,” you say casually and reach over the bed to grab your boxers, “You probably should.” You both dress in silence and you show him to the door.

Brad kisses you softly, fleetingly, as he leaves, waving awkwardly over his shoulder and hurrying down the path.

***

School on Monday is when you next see each other. Math class. You shift you chair closer to his to cheat off his work and he glances up to smile at you but it leaves something to be desired. It’s just like it always was and you’re almost disappointed.

You’re not sure what you had expected – maybe for his eyes to have a gleam to them that shared your secret. Maybe you had wanted him to touch your knee under the table, his hand hot and heavy on your leg.

But then again – this is Brad you’re talking about. And it dawns on you all at once that you were just another fuck, another notch on his belt and during phys-ed he’ll nudge his buddies and tell them about the virgin ass he ploughed last night and they’ll all hoot and whistle and glance at you suggestively with their eyebrows raised.

You blush bright red and grab your bag, tell the teacher you feel sick and he believes you – you’re Mike Shinoda, A grade student. You wouldn’t lie.

The minute you’re in the hallway you laugh to yourself. You’re a complete idiot. What did you expect? For him to ask you to be your boyfriend? Brad didn’t do relationships – he did booty calls and nothing else. You race outside and toward the gates of the school, the voice in your head laughing at you and calling you a slut, saying he used you and you let him.

You never go back to school that day. And Brad never calls.


End file.
